Moments
by Emily92
Summary: A series of unrelated Caskett ficlets. "They had grown old together, and thirty years later he still got her the same sugar free vanilla late."


**A/N**: Just some drabbles. Sometimes I get bored and put my itunes on shuffle and start writing. Anyway, for anyone reading Synchronized, I hope to update that soon-ish, too.

**Moments**

_i. counting all different ideas drifting away, past and present, they don't matter now the future's sorted out_

Coffee had been their constant throughout the years.

They had grown old together, and thirty years later he still got her the same sugar free vanilla late.

He joined her at a table in one of their favorite places, drinks in hand.

He sat down, a bemused smile playing upon his lips.

"What?" she asked, taking a sip.

"The barista kinda looked like Josh," he explained.

She looked at him. There were wrinkles around her eyes now, reminders of all the times he'd made her laugh throughout the years.

"Josh who?"

_ii. love is watching someone die_

He took a sharp intake of breath, the smell of Lysol overwhelming in the hospital practically engulfing them.

He knew that thinking their entire life together would be perfect was unrealistic, but this shouldn't be happening. He never would have written anything remotely like this.

It pained him so much, and hadn't she already suffered enough?

He leaned in and gently touched her cheek, searching unsuccessfully for some words that would bring solace to her pale face, looking for something that would somehow comfort them both when the ghost of the stillborn lay heavily in the small room where they both cried.

_iii. and dreams were made and used and wasted_

Her earlier words in the box had hit like a ton of bricks.

_I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it_.

She had betrayed him in a way that he had never envisioned. He'd never fathomed she would be so thoughtless as to shatter his heart into pieces the way she had.

He wondered if it was all a façade, what he'd felt between them. Maybe he was a fool. Maybe the Martha Roger's gene for acting had somehow been passed down to her.

Whatever the case, he'd had a dream for them, a dream of the life they would share, and she had ruthlessly shattered it.

_iv. i'll take the best of your bad moods and dress them up to make a better you_

"Hey," she whispered lightly as they lay in bed, poking his side gently.

He rolled over so that he was facing her, "Hey."

"I can feel you thinking," she said, voice still light, but concerned.

He shrugged.

"Castle, she loves you. She was just upset," she reassured him, speaking of Alexis and what had happened earlier that afternoon.

"We never fight like that," he replied, looking like a sad child, "Well, hardly ever."

"Believe me, speaking as a daughter, those kind of fights happen sometimes."

"We'll be ok?" he asked.

"Always," she reassured him, "You aren't going to lose her."

_v. take me away, a secret place, a sweet escape_

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

He studied her, leaning in the door frame of his Hamptons bedroom as she watched the ocean from the window. Her back was to him. She stood, mesmerized as the water crashed into the rocks. It was one of those nights, cold and windy and stormy, and although he appreciated the literary value, he was glad to be inside.

Her hair came down her shoulders in waves, almost dry now from their shower before. She wore a black chemise that hugged her in all the right places, highlighting her lithe frame. Among other things, he could see her shoulders. One of his favorite places to kiss her.

"You gonna stand there forever, Castle?" she asked, bringing him out of his reverie.

"I didn't know you'd noticed me."

She scoffed, "I'm a detective

He joined her at the window, pulling his arms around her stomach, just under her breasts, and kissed her in one of those favorite places.

_vi. and i know you're never gonna understand / i'll try my best to follow if i can_

"Kate," he said, trying to vocalize his desire to fix whatever had her so upset.

She looked at him through teary eyes, "I'm sorry, Castle. I just…"

He pulled her shaking body into his, kissing her cheek gently, "Don't be sorry. But let me try to help."

"Sometimes I just miss her," she said through her tears, "So much. For no other reason than I want her here."

_vii. i told you how long we got, all the time in the world_

Sometimes she would lay awake at night, too much on her mind to sleep. It was the fall after her shooting. After a rough summer, she had finally seen Castle again earlier that day, but she felt guilty for lying to him (even though she wasn't ready to deal with the alternative. Oh, she wanted it, but the operative word was eventually. She needed to make herself whole before she dove in with him).

And she still had panic attacks. They snuck up on her, always taking her breathing away at first.

Nights like this, she didn't sleep much.

She made her way to the precinct the next morning, still not feeling completely up to par.

Castle came in a few minutes later, two coffees in hand.

"Hey," he smiled, and it was a reassurance, an _I'll wait for you_, and suddenly she feels a lot better.

Titles/prompts from:

i – "1901" by Phoenix

ii – "What Sarah Said" by Death Cab for Cutie

iii. "One Man Miserables Medley" by Nick Pitera

iv. "Company Calls" by Death Cab for Cutie

v. "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield

vi. "Static Waves" by Andrew Belle

vii. "A Thing for Me" by Metronomy


End file.
